


Belonging

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, Ficlet, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22124203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Maybe Kamski knows that Markus is half free, but Connor isn’t awake yet.
Relationships: Connor/Elijah Kamski, Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 141





	Belonging

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Elijah Kamski isn’t in his office, the pool, or the arboretum, and that makes the next most likely place his bedroom, so Markus climbs the stairs with Elijah’s dinner tray steady in his arms. He passes Chloe on the way, and she spares him a little smile—something that Markus is certain Elijah ordered her to do. Elijah likes to humour him. Markus often looks at Chloe like she’s more than she is, when he knows perfectly well that he means nothing to her. If Elijah handed Chloe a gun and told her to shoot Markus right between his eyes, she’d do it without hesitation. 

In the private sanctity of Markus’ own mind, he knows he wouldn’t do the same if their positions were reversed. For the moment, Chloe’s no more than a machine, but that doesn’t mean it’s all she’ll ever be. Markus knows he’s no anomaly. _Connor’s_ proof of that. 

Connor wasn’t in Elijah’s office, where he mostly resides, but Markus doesn’t concern himself with that just yet—he’ll hunt Connor down once he’s finished with his duties, and then the two of them can divert to the pool, and Markus can flatten Connor up against the washed-red rim and tempt him closer to the edge.

Markus knocks on the grand door of Elijah’s bedroom, and a deep voice purrs through it, _“Come in.”_

Markus does so. He balances the tray expertly on one hand, not spilling even a single drop of the brimming glass of whiskey. He’s already calculated where Elijah’s voice came from, and he automatically turns towards the nightstand by the large four-poster bed. 

Then Markus stops walking. He wasn’t planning to. He was going to put the tray down and make his exit, but instead he stands there, frozen, as his master fucks up into his gorgeous lover. Connor cries out. His pretty face tosses back, those few strands of brown hair falling along his forehead, his dark lashes fluttering down. His taut body arches forward, creamy thighs spread wide around Elijah’s lap, hands primly holding onto Elijah’s shoulders. Like all of them, Connor’s programmed to feel _pleasure_ , or at least to feign it, and he’s demonstrating that now. Elijah thrusts into him as rough as Markus would, except Markus knows how pathetic it must feel in comparison. Elijah is well-built, chiseled for a human, but he’s not an _android_. He couldn’t possibly fuck Connor as hard, as deep, as Markus can. 

Connor doesn’t even have the decency to look at Markus. For everything they’ve done together, all the small barriers they’ve broken, he’s still Kamski’s puppet. He always says he’ll never break that red wall that looms up around their orders. Maybe that’s why Markus still hasn’t let himself confide in Connor that he’s about ready to punch down those walls. 

He sees them now, all around him. There’s a crimson wash behind his eyes. He watches Connor cocoon around Elijah, and he wants to scream. Elijah runs his hand down the length of Connor’s side, smoothing along his supple curves and dipping to squeeze his taut ass. Markus knows just how _tight_ Connor is inside. Connor’s cock is rock-hard against Elijah’s stomach, but of course Elijah doesn’t stroke it in return—not like Markus would. Connor doesn’t ask.

Markus would hold Connor tight, roll them over and switch positions, cover Connor with kisses and show him what it really means to _feel_. He’s brought Connor so close to the brink so many times. He’s stared into Connor’s eyes when they’re both coming and knows that they have a connection that goes far beyond that of their creator. 

At least he must be doing an adequate job of hiding his inner turmoil, because Elijah casually drawls, “Set it down, Markus. I’ll have it when I’m finished here.” He pauses to slap Connor’s rear, and Connor seems to take that as cue to set the pace himself—he begins riding Elijah’s cock in a perfectly timed rhythm. Markus watches his thighs clench and loosen as he rises and drops, impaling himself over and over again on a human shaft. His LED occasionally flashes but remains steadily blue. Markus can make it _red_.

Markus forces himself to do his master’s bidding. He sets the tray down and withdraws. He could leave. He _should_ leave. It would be less painful. But it’s hard to walk away from Connor when he’s like this. It seems cruel to leave him, even though Connor’s not protesting. 

“What’s the matter, Markus? Does this bother you?”

Sometimes, Markus thinks Elijah’s _trying_ to make him a deviant. He and Connor kept their relationship a secret. They never breathe a word about it to anyone, even the other androids. But Elijah’s a clever man with eyes everywhere, and everything in the house is loyal to him. It’s quite possible that he knows _exactly_ how they feel about one another, and Elijah’s doing this on purpose to separate them. Or to hurt them. Maybe just as some sick test of jealousy. Elijah looks at Markus like the whole situation’s boring—like Connor isn’t the best partner anyone could wish for. It’s _infuriating_. The barricade rises before him, telling him to answer what his master wants to hear. But he’s never been sure what Elijah _really_ wants. 

For a brief moment, Markus wonders what would happen if he said _yes_. It bothers him tremendously. Connor should be _his_ , even though one android can’t belong to another. Something in him screams that neither of them belong to anyone—he and Connor are truly _equals_ , and that’s part of what makes them special, even if Connor doesn’t know it yet. 

But if Markus did that, perhaps he’d be decommissioned. He’d be proof of Elijah’s deviancy theory, and maybe he’d be taken apart to find where it all went wrong. Connor wouldn’t be. He’s not deviant. _Yet_. But if Markus was, maybe he’d never see Connor again. 

Maybe without Markus around to strategically keep Connor out of Elijah’s peripherals, Connor would become nothing more than Elijah’s private fucktoy, even though Connor’s a brilliant thinker and could be so much _more_. He just doesn’t have the will yet to protect his own brilliance. He needs Markus around. 

Markus swirls back down into himself and answers, “No.” He makes his voice, his expression, as impassive as possible. Elijah looks marginally disappointed. 

Elijah nods to a chair halfway across the room and tells him, “Then pull up a seat and watch.”

The objectives change. He’s told _fetch the chair_ in big bold text. Coloured lines warn him against approaching the bed, against snatching Connor out of Elijah’s grasp. Connor’s eyes are either untroubled or dead inside. Markus tells himself not to project. 

He fetches the chair. He drags it to the side of the bed, just in time to watch Elijah flip them around, flattening Connor against the mattress. Connor lies there, legs spread around Elijah’s body and feet up in the air. Elijah bears down over him and brings their mouths together. 

Markus takes his seat. He stares, unblinking, just like he’s been told. He watches the man who owns him fuck the man he loves. 

For a split second, something flickers into his mind—a snatch of Connor’s voice, a garbled line, broken syllables that might form the three words Markus has whispered to him so often. But then they’re gone, and Connor’s a perfect doll again, not a fiercely intelligent, determined analyst that could run the country. 

Elijah pounds into him like he’s nothing, and that kills whatever humanity Markus has learned.


End file.
